


The Talk

by Ineffable_Plans



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crack Fic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Funny, I don't know why I wrote this, M/M, The Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 14:22:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19770055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ineffable_Plans/pseuds/Ineffable_Plans
Summary: Post non-apocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley have gotten together and things seem to be going fine. Until they begin receiving letters from Heaven and Hell regarding miracles and such that neither of them are responsible for. Adam Young makes a memorable appearance. Because Crowley and Aziraphale need *someone* to give them the talk. Yeah, that one.





	The Talk

**Author's Note:**

> S'up nerds! This was supposed to be a short crack fic and it got out of control.
> 
> I am so, so sorry that you're about to read this. I couldn't help myself. Bless you.

They hadn’t realized anything was amiss until the commendations arrived. It was strange, really, to be receiving them at all given the fact that neither were actually working for their respective head offices any longer. Still, it seemed that both were pleased and mostly pretending as if things were right as rain. Or at least they were pretending nothing happened with the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t.

Aziraphale had been nervous opening up the letter from Heaven. He hadn’t known what to expect, but on the list of possibilities commendations were very low. He was pleasantly surprised then to see that Heaven had begun attributing random good deeds to _him_. Surely they had sent another Angel down to Earth by down to do his job. He certainly hadn’t planned on continuing at any rate. Not that he was going to start doing _bad_ things, but he wasn’t going out of his way to help Heaven with whatever plans they had cooked up. He folded the letter up neatly and set it aside. Crowley would probably be amused.

Aziraphale smiled to himself at the thought of his best friend. Although, maybe ‘best friend’ wasn’t the best identifier any more. It had taken long enough, over 6,000 years, but for the past two weeks Aziraphale felt that Crowley was definitely something _more_ than a best friend. Best friends do not cuddle while watching television and snog like a couple of hormonal teenagers. Aziraphale felt his face going red at the thought.

The Angel turned the sign to closed and locked the door before heading to his backroom for a cup of hot cocoa. He couldn’t stop thinking about Crowley and everything that had happened. He certainly couldn’t put it into words. It seemed that was par for the course however, as neither of them spoke very much at all about their relationship. It had all happened quite naturally and without fanfare. One day they were spending time together as always, the next they were a mess of tangled limbs on the settee while The Great British Bake Off played in the background. Aziraphale couldn’t even be entirely sure which of them had even started it to be honest. Neither of them actually _spoke_ about it. There were no great love confessions or promises made. Crowley wasn’t the type to get overly emotional, and Aziraphale wasn’t about to scare him away.

He knew they would have to talk about it _eventually_ of course, but considering it took them 6,000 years to admit to being friends, Aziraphale was prepared to wait another 6,000 until they had worked up the nerve to say anything about their current arrangement. Well, maybe not that long. Crowley, for all his determination to appear cool and aloof, had quite obviously begun moving in, bit by bit. Aziraphale wisely said nothing, and without fail the demon would appear each day with something else to leave at the book shop. Sometimes it was a plant, sometimes a piece of artwork. Though _that_ particular piece had not yet arrived, Aziraphale was thankful, if not a little concerned. Where exactly were they going to put it?

He sipped tentatively at the hot cocoa when he heard the front door open. _Crowley._ Aziraphale walked out of the backroom towards his friend (boyfriend? Partner?) and tried to tone down the rather large smile that he was currently sporting.

“Hello Crowley,” He said simply, as if he hadn’t been waiting for the demon to appear. He watched as Crowley set down a rather lovely plant on the window sill and whispered something he couldn’t make out.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley answered. He seemed more flustered that normal. “I, uh. I had a letter. Waiting for me back at my flat. From Hell.” He pulled a piece of folded paper out of his pocket and held it out.

“What do they want?” Aziraphale asked cautiously. He really had rather hoped they wouldn’t hear from either side for a good long time. Perhaps his little show in the bathtub wasn’t as good as he thought it was. He tentatively took the paper from Crowley.

“Gave me a commendation,” Crowley sneered, “Couple of ‘em actually. Dunno what for, haven’t actually _done_ anything.”

“Oh!” the Angel said in surprised, “I’d almost forgotten. I’ve gotten some myself. From Heaven of course, not from Hell.”

He picked up the Heaven-sent letter from the counter and handed it to Crowley, then opened and began reading Crowley’s letter. Both were quite for a few moments as they read.

“Maybe – maybe it’s the humans again,” Aziraphale offered.

Crowley snorted. “Unlikely. This is like, regular miracle stuff. Not like the Inquisition.”

“No, I suppose not,” Aziraphale said with a sigh, “But I don’t know why they’ve assumed it’s our doing. I know I haven’t been-“ He grabbed the paper from Crowley and turned it around to read, “- _filling in potholes with flowers and generally making the whole of London more tolerable and cheery for the humans_. Honestly, what does that even _mean_?”

“The flowers? All around the city? That’s what you’ve done?”

“I haven’t _done_ anything. I’ve barely left the shop in the last week. I got those new books in you know. Printing errors, very rare. I didn’t think – “

“Right, got it,” Crowley said, waving him off before he had to hear about the books for another two hours, “Wait. Potholes? You’ve – someone filled in potholes with flowers?”

“Er – That’s what they said.”

“I got a commendation for that. Well, for part of it. Potholes up over 150% or some nonsense. Someone hit one rather bad the other day, ruined a car and they were late for… a wedding?” Crowley shook his head, “Something like that. Apparently it really ruined stuff for a bunch of people. Hell was thrilled. I think one of them was some big shot politician. But _I_ didn’t do it.”

“Course not,” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow because honestly potholes? If anyone was out there trying to make life a little more inconvenient for everyone that would be the way and it really did sound like something Crowley would do, “But are you sure? _Really_?”

“I think I’d know,” The demon replied, “Sure you haven’t been getting a touch out of hand with flowers? Sounds like something you’d do.”

Aziraphale shook his head. Did it really matter though? They were rather…tame as far as miracles go.

“Maybe Heaven and Hell are just looking for excuses to contact us?” He suggested, “Test the waters as it were?”

“Well, no point it getting panties in a twist over it.” Crowley replied, glancing around the shop. “I’m not planning on replying.”

“Well, of course not.” Aziraphale set both papers down on the counter, “I was just having some cocoa. Can I make you a cup?”

Crowley grinned despite himself. “Sure, angel.”

*****

A few weeks later Aziraphale received another missive from above, this time a tad less friendly. Heaven was pleased that he was still helping humanity and thwarting wiles as it were, but if perhaps he could tone it all down a bit because things were getting a bit out of hand. They could excuse some miracles, but others were simply frivolous and if he wanted to continue _lying low_ then it might behoove him to lay off for a bit. Otherwise they were going to take it as a sign that Aziraphale wanted to be recalled.

Aziraphale sat on the settee in his back room, half empty wine bottle in one hand, crumpled letter in another. He had _no idea_ what they were talking about. Sure, he had noticed that there seemed to be a lot more angelic and demonic activity in the area then previously, but he had no idea who was responsible. The bakery down the street had closed temporarily when a stream of rats ran in from the street and infested the place, but the owner had won the lottery that same day which was well-timed really. There had even been a few low level earthquake trembles, but miraculously no one was injured. And he knew that both he and Crowley were otherwise engaged at the time so it hadn’t been them.

Aziraphale was startled from his musings when the phone rang.

“Hello?” He answered, ready to tell whoever was foolish enough to call that the shop was CLOSED.

“’Ziraphale!” Crowley practically yelled into the phone, “Don’t go anywhere, coming by to get you.”

“Er – Ok,” the angel answered, a bit confused, “What’s the occasion? Is everything alright?”

“Yes. No.” Crowley flip flopped. Aziraphale could hear wheels screech and a string of yelled curses in the background, “Dunno really. Adam called, said he needed to speak with us.”

“Adam. The anti-Christ?”

“No, the other Adam. Yes the anti-Christ,” Crowley replied sarcastically, “How many Adams do you know?”

“Well, at least two.”

“The alive one, then.”

“Right,” Aziraphale sighed, “Yes of course. What does he want? Is it about the apocalypse?”

“How should I know? Didn’t give me much info did he. Just said we needed to get there.”

“When do we leave?”

Aziraphale heard the yelling and screeching tires before he saw them. “M’here now. C’mon.” Crowley hung up.

*****

They rode out to Tadfield in relative silence, only broken by the relentless string of Queen songs coming from the Bentley. A million questions with no answers ran through their heads. Who was responsible for everything going on around London? Heaven and Hell were blaming them, which meant it unlikely that another demon and angel had been stationed on Earth. Perhaps someone had gone rogue? And did Adam know anything about it then, or was this related to the apocalypse-that-wasn’t? Did he even still have powers anymore? And how the hell had Adam gotten Crowley’s number?

Crowley slowed to a stop at Adam’s house, hoping his parents weren’t home. He didn’t know how to explain why two middle aged men wanted to chat with their kid, and he couldn’t be sure the anti-Christ would be happy if anything strange were to happen to his mum and dad.

Luckily for all involved, Adam was home alone with Dog, who, having left most of his demonic ways behind was really quite a lovable thing. Adam opened the door before either of them could knock.

“Hello.” He said simply. “You got here quickly. That’s good, we have to talk.”

He motioned them both inside and closed the door. Aziraphale took the offered seat at the dining room table but Crowley insisted on standing. He could be a bit high strung on a normal day, and a day when you are summoned before the anti-Christ was anything but normal so his anxiety was cranked to an 11. Adam shrugged and sat down opposite of Aziraphale.

“So, Adam,” the angel began gently, “Is everything alright? We weren’t expecting to hear from you… Well, ever if I’m to be perfectly honest. I hope you haven’t changed your mind regarding – er, Armageddon.”

“Oh, no,” Adam said calmly, “Nothing like that. I just think it’s time we had the talk is all.”

“The…talk?” Aziraphale blinked.

“Yes. I think it’s time, don’t you?”

“Are you to tell me,” Crowley said, voice rising, “That we’ve been called here out of the blue, because you want to have a discussion on the birds and the bees? Couldn’t your mum or dad take care of that? Or school? Do they teach that in school these days?”

“Oh,” Adam replied simply. “I didn’t mean for _me_. I meant for _you_.”

“What?!” Aziraphale and Crowley replied in unison. Adam sat there quietly, choosing his words wisely.

“Seriously, what the fuck, kid?” Crowley asked.

“Language, dear,” Aziraphale chided.

“I think you can forgive me on this one angel. I mean, c’mon. We don’t need a _talk_.” He gestured wildly to everyone and everything, clearly at a loss.

“Well,” Adam said carefully, “if you didn’t, then things wouldn’t be such a mess now. But you two have just been going at it without thinking, right?”

Aziraphale and Crowley had the presence of mind to look away, embarrassed to be called out by a child on their personal lives. Aziraphale was looking rather like his head might be perfect twins with a rather nice tomato.

“Our personal lives are out business,” Crowley said gruffly, refusing to look at anyone, “Can’t see how it matters anyway. Why do you care?”

“I rather like Earth you see,” Adam answered, “and you two are messing it up throwing all those miracles all over the place. I mean earthquakes? Really?”

“That wasn’t us!” Aziraphale argued, finally reentering the conversation.

“Well, yeah it was. You see, when two ethereal beings love each other very much – “

“Oh my go – sa – NO,” Crowley said, “Please stop.”

Adam and Aziraphale squirmed uneasily in their seats. No one wanted to have this conversation, but it had to be done. The anti-Christ had a new found respect for his father at this point, as he had just been on the receiving end of this conversation earlier that year.

“Right well, I don’t think we need to get into specifics.”

“You think?!”

Adam ignored Crowley’s outcry. “Point is, if you two want to carry on it might be a good idea to move out of the city. Get away from so many people. And, uh. Learn how to control yourselves a bit so you aren’t miracling up something worse than you’ve been.”

“Right. Yes. Thank you.” Aziraphale stood up quickly, “Lovely chat, must go. Get together soon, yes? Good. Bye.”

Crowley watched Aziraphale practically sprint out of the house and looked at Adam.

“Right, bye.” He was gone before Adam could respond.

“Thank goodness that’s done.” Adam said, giving dog a pat on the head, “That was worse than the talk dad gave me.”

*****

The ride back was so awkward even the Bentley didn’t want to be there for it and, for once, the radio was silent. Crowley attempted to get it to play something, anything, but the Bentley refused to cooperate at all and even Freddie Mercury could not save him from this one.

“So,” the demon took a fortifying breath, “I guess that only leaves two options then. Either stay away from each other, or move.”

“Yes, that seems about right I suppose,” Aziraphale sighed. He was a creature of habit, and moving was not something he was terribly interested in at the moment, but if it was between moving and… Well, Aziraphale could always take his books with him.

“I understand, of course,” Crowley said, trying to sound much more calm and relaxed than he felt, “You’ve been there for a long time so I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to move. It’s a nice spot really.”

“It is,” Aziraphale smiled, seeing the out that Crowley was providing and expertly navigating around it, “But I can think of things I like more.”

He reached out and grasped Crowley’s hand in his own, giving it a small squeeze. Crowley blushed.

“Yeah, right. S’good,” He replied, staring straight out at the road in front of him and resolutely not looking at the beaming angel beside him.

**And that, my dear readers, is how the demon known as Crowley, and the angel known as Aziraphale, came to live in an area known as South Downs.**

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are love, please leave me some love!


End file.
